


21. Home

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [21]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning for fisting and heavy verbal humiliation</p>
    </blockquote>





	21. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for fisting and heavy verbal humiliation

It'd been an insane couple of days, the long flight back from Fiji, a courier with script rewrites for him and an early night studying them means Stephen's not had a lot of time to think about missing his lover and Sir. Even now, at the end of a very long day he's preoccupied; right up until his car pulls up at the apartment building. 

Climbing out he peers up at it, his brows doing a little dance of surprise. He turns to take his bag from his driver with a grin and a 'yeah see you in the morning, 7...sure.' 

Then he's hauling his bag inside, smiling broadly at the concierge as he gives his name. 

A formal greeting, a smile in return and soon he's directed to the private elevator up to the penthouse, 50 floors up. It's all very very nice, and it's becoming increasingly clear that Antony is very comfortably off indeed. 

When the doors part they reveal an entrance hall, in the centre of which is a carved wooden table, he circles it to the large door beyond, he's assuming the front desk have called up to announce him, but even so, he raps a quick tattoo on the wood. 

"Coming," Antony calls out, giving dinner one more quick stir before he heads for the door. His boy's a sight for sore eyes, even the small time they've spent apart making Antony miss him. "C'mon in," he says, grinning at Stephen and at the sight of the bag he has with him, his lover pulled in close for a kiss the moment he closes the door behind them.

"Hey gorgeous," Stephen murmurs against Antony's mouth. He drops his bag and wraps his arm around Antony's waist. "Hmmm," he hums contentedly. 

"Hmmm is right. You feel good," Antony murmurs, backing Stephen up against the wall and licking into his mouth.

The tension Stephen's been carrying all afternoon starts to bleed away in the face of his lover, his hands pet and stroke Antony's back and he returns the kiss with equal passion. Eventually he has to break away, a smile curving his mouth. "Something smells pretty fucking good," he murmurs. 

"I made butter chicken," Antony says, glancing at his watch. "It should be ready in about 20 minutes. You want the grand tour?"

"Will it take 20 mins?" Stephen grins as he leans down to pick up his bag. "Cos this place is rather special eh? Penthouse, I should have guessed."

Antony laughs. "The views are the best thing about it," he says, gesturing towards the end of the hall. "But there's a closet there, half bath there, kitchen to the right here, living room, dining room," the central rooms nice and open.

Following Antony, Stephen drops his bag again, this time on a nearby chair as he wanders up to the huge windows that look out over the city. "Wow, that's stunning," he tries to take it all in, and gives up to throw a look over his shoulder at Antony. "I love it."

Stephen's reaction is everything Antony could have hoped for. He nods. "I've been here for three years," he says. "And I never get sick of it. Never take it for granted."

"The view just as good from the bedroom?" And if Stephen's grin is a little impish he won't deny it. 

Antony nods, grinning back. "You can always look around later. The other end has the second bedroom, another closet and ensuite. It also has a tv, the only one in here," he says, taking Stephen's hand, trying to behave himself for long enough to give at least a brief version of the tour. "And over here we have the master bedroom. Closet's there. I cleared out a whole section for you, put more hangers in, and you've got the top two drawers on the left side. And the bathroom's across the hall. You've got your own sink, left side, and I cleared out everything under it too." 

Stephen laughs, "Wow, my own sink? Really?" He shakes his head and lets Antony lead him into the main bedroom. "Anyone would think you're a teeny bit excited at me being here," he teases, because he knows he can. 

"I want you to feel welcome, comfortable," Antony says with a light shrug, not minding the teasing at all. "Make yourself at home."

"Oh I do feel welcome," Stephen nods, tugging Antony back into his personal space. "Now...room mate of mine...do you have any beer, because I've had a crap day." 

"Yeah. There's Kingfisher to go with the food, Singha, Smithwicks, Keiths, Heineken, there's probably a few others in there and I can get in whatever you like," Antony says, kissing Stephen softly on the mouth. "What kind of crap day?"

"Just non stop, last minute script rewrites that I got last night, and then one scene we couldn't get right, so we had to do it over and over, and that just got every one wound up." Stephen shrugs. "Just one of those days." He rubs at his face. "You pick the beer, nothing heavy."

"Okay." Antony leads the way back to the kitchen, pulling two Kingfishers from the fridge which he pours into two glasses before handing one over to Stephen. "It sounds frustrating."

"Yeah, it was, I'd love a bath and I'm assuming an early night is a given?" The grin is back now, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. 

"Sure. Bath before or after dinner?" Antony asks, giving the butter chicken another stir and checking on the rice. "I can keep this warm if you want."

"After, do you have one big enough for us both?" Stephen takes a long pull on his beer and watches the food with interest. "That looks really good,"

"The tub in the master bath's one of those huge jetted ones," Antony says, pulling out two plates on which he beds the rice and then spoons the chicken on top. "Here. Take a seat. Eat." Motioning towards the chairs on the other side of the island, napkins and cutlery placed in the middle. "When you're not so tired, I'll set the table," he adds with a grin.

Stephen takes a seat, and pulls his plate in front of him, picking up his silverware he grins at Antony. "I could get used to this," he admits, because hell, the place is beautiful, Antony's actually fucking cooked for him, and there's a hot soak and sex on offer for afters. 

"I hope so," Antony says, grinning back and settling in with his own plate. "You know, you're only the second person I've ever had in here."

"In three years?" Stephen looks up from his plate, "Really? Who else got the lucky golden ticket?" 

"Ian. Once. He'd taken some GBH and I told him I was spending the night with him here or at his place, whether he liked it or not," Antony says, spearing a piece of butter chicken and popping it into his mouth.

"Ian?" Antony says the name like he should know who that is. "Why would you babysit someone who's taken drugs? Surely he could of looked after himself?" He picks up his beer and looks expectantly at his lover. 

"The guy from outside the club, the actor," Antony clarifies. "And I'm fine with leaving him when he's just done coke or whatever but with GBH there's a chance he could..." he glances at their food, "be ill and not be conscious enough to react like he should."

"Ahhh, so it was after you scened?" Truth be told Stephen's kinda surprised that Antony does that with someone who uses. "You know about drugs?" He sets his beer aside and starts back on the food. "Have you done that sort of stuff?" And his questions are all casual, no implied judgement. 

"I've smoked some weed," Antony admits, "but never on any regular basis, nothing harder than that. But yeah, I know my drugs. They sometimes come into play with work, and when I play outside the club - which I won't be doing anymore, except with Ian - I'm more lax about my rules when it comes to shit like that."

"Does he always use something when you play with him?" And Stephen can't help but wonder who this guy is that he plays so edgy. Swiping a chunk of chicken through the sauce he pops it in his mouth with a happy noise. 

"I think so," Antony says, mixing the sauce with his rice and smiling at Stephen's obvious enjoyment of their meal. "We've only played three times, and the first time we just picked each other up from a bar, but he was probably high, most likely on coke."

Stephen frowns here, and sets his fork down, "I'm...I don't get it. Why do you see him, rather why did you make him an exception to our agreement if you've only seen him three times and he's always high? You can't know him particularly well." He tries not to sound like a bitch, but even to his own ears there seems to be a hint of something, jealousy tinting his words. "I'm sorry, that sounded shitty, and it's none of my business," he picks up his fork again and dips his head. 

"Don't do that. You told me not to 'never mind' you, you don't 'none of my business' me," Antony says, an edge to his voice that wasn't there before. "You're my boy and my lover and that makes it your business."

Stephen flinches at the tone in Antony's voice. "Okay," he concedes softly. "I...it sounded shitty the way I said it, I just don't understand the attraction, and clearly there is one, other wise you wouldn't have made an exception for him." 

"To be honest, I don't get it either," Antony says. "The first time he was a really rough fuck in an alley and he promised I could do more if we were elsewhere, which appealed, so I gave him my number and when he texted me, we met up at this old gym I own and I beat the shit out of him, and when we were talking after, I realized he was playing really dangerously and going to get himself killed so I offered to hurt him as badly as he needed - short of putting him in the hospital - if he came to me instead." He pauses, pushing at his food, and then sets his fork down. "And then the last time, we got to talking more, even though he was high, and he told me about his partner who died a few years ago and the new man in his life he was struggling to be better for, and I - I figured out he was _trying_ to die before that. That he was hoping, deep down, that the next fucker he picked up /would/ be the wrong one."

"He sounds like he's really messed up, hurting," Stephen reaches out to press his finger against Antony's wrist. "And that triggered some protective thing in you?" he ask, his voice low. "Because _that_ I get."

Antony nods. "I don't want him to get hurt. And yes, I'm attracted to him, I like him, but it's not a threat to us. He has this Joe and I have you and we're so not suited to being primaries, much less even lovers..." he shakes his head, chuckling softly at the thought.

Stephen gives Antony's arm a squeeze before he lets go to turn his attention back to his curry. "I don't feel threatened, I was just confused at the pull you felt to him, but that's fine, I get it." 

"Good. I'm glad because I wouldn't want you worrying," Antony says, smiling at Stephen. Watching him eat. "I'm so happy you're here."

The twinkle is back in Stephen's eyes when he glances up, a grin playing over his lips. "Thank you, I'm kinda glad to be here myself." He glances around. "It's much nicer than my place for sure." 

"Which reminds me," Antony says, eyes widening for a second. "Hold on." He hops off his chair and heads around the corner, coming back a second later. "Here." He places a key on the island in front of Stephen. "Condo front door." A small key fob. "Building front door and garage - you can park in the spot beside me, 195, when you have your car." And a piece of paper with 6152 written on it. " _That_ you have to memorize and then destroy," he says with a laugh. "It'll give you access to the elevator from the garage or the lobby." 

His eyes widen at the key and the fob and Stephen looks up, "Are you sure?" He hadn't expected this, but then, there's so much about their relationship and how it's playing out that he hadn't expected, and he's decided not to question it...just go with what feels right. And so far, nothing's felt off. Nothing. 

Antony nods. "I want you to stay here whenever you want, even when I'm not in town," he says. "There's a pool on the 26th floor, gym, spa, amazing restaurant on the 24th. Anything you want, just have them charge it to my account. And whenever I come home, you can be here, waiting for me. As long as it's after work, of course."

Placing his hand over the key and fob Stephen collects them up off the counter. "Okay, but...I like my place too, however I'll try and be here when you're due home." He smiles, because as lovely as the offer is, what's the point in being in space that's not his when his lover's is absent from it. 

"No, of course," Antony says, realizing he's probably gone overboard in his excitement at having Stephen here. In sharing his space with his lover. "Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I just meant if you needed a break or didn't feel like going to Citadel or whatever..."

"Hey, it's a lovely gesture, and one I'm flattered by, but...without you here? It loses all its charms," Stephen explains, "And they are considerable charms."

"Okay, well the offer stands," Antony says with a smile, finishing his beer. "And I'd love to see your place sometime."

"Sure, though it's not nearly as flash as here, it's a lot more...bachelor pad." Stephen scoops up the last bite of curry and pops it in his mouth. Nudging his plate away he picks up his beer. "That was pretty damned good," he pronounces. "And I shall of course, be expecting dessert." He winks, letting Antony interpret that any which way he wants. 

"I think dessert comes after the bath. Either that, or in it," Antony teases back, picking up their plates and starting to clean up.

Busying himself with helping Antony clear away Stephen waits until he's got a second beer in his glass, and his lover is pretty much done with righting the kitchen before he asks casually enough, "I'd like to go down tonight for a little while, some anal and some verbal humiliation, you in the mood?"

"Definitely," Antony nods, his body reacting right on cue to the words. "Where does you wanting a soak fit into that?" he asks with a smile.

"As some relaxation beforehand, wash off my day, get naked with you, get intimate, let you get in my head." Stephen's leaning against the counter, glass in hand. 

Antony's smile widens and he nods again. "I might even have some bath salts or bubble bath lying around," he says, stepping in closer. "If you want them."

Laughing Stephen shakes his head, "No, that's fine, just hot water and soap is good." He reaches out to place a hand on Antony's hip. "But we should definitely get some massage oil in for future fun, if you don't already have some," he winks, his tone warm. 

"I don't know what I have," Antony says with a laugh, leaning in for a kiss. "My sisters insist on sending me all these organic... bath and toiletry products. I just keep putting them under the sink. Fiji was the first time in a long time that I took an actual bath."

"In which case I shall check them out and see what looks promising," Stephen grins at the kiss, "You taste of beer and curry, a man's scent if ever there was one," he teases. "Sexy."

"You're the one who's sexy," Antony says, taking Stephen's hand and leading him from the kitchen towards the master suite. "I've been catching up on some more of your show. And besides your acting, I'm really enjoying how much time you spend shirtless."

Snorting in amusement Stephen lets himself be pulled along. "Oh is that so? And did you watch my show with your dick in your hand too?" He can't help the laughter, it just feel so good to be with someone who let him be...well him.

"For some of it," Antony admits with a chuckle, because why not? "But I didn't come," he says, with a glance over his shoulder at Stephen. "Saved it all for you instead."

"Edging, I like it." Stephen comes to a stop when his lover does, and it's clear clothes removal is next on the agenda, he gets a start in by pulling his tee off over his head, to reveal that he did a pretty quick and crappy job in removing the scar and tattoo make up from work. 

"You look like you were in a bit of a hurry to get away," Antony says, ignoring his own shirt for the moment in favour of touching the remaining lines of scar tissue running down the right side of his stomach. He touches the faded star just above it. "I've known a lot of men with this sort of tattoo." Including the Russian.

"Yeah?" Stephen looks down at himself, at where Antony's touching him. 

"Solntsevskaya Bratva," Antony murmurs, shaking his head. "Tough sons of bitches."

"I can go wash it off now if it bothers you," Stephen offers softly, aware that Antony's just given him another hint of the darkness that's in his past - and quite possibly his present. 

"No. It's okay. It's just strange. Hollywood. That they get right, but the Chinese," Antony grins, running his fingers over the other side of Stephen's torso. "These are just random characters. Not that it makes them any less sexy."

"You like them?" His skin's goose bumping under Antony's touch, "Tattoos?" 

"Yeah. Not on me," Antony clarifies, grateful to not have more than a small set of scars, most of which have faded, given his work. "But on others?" He nods. "They fascinate me."

"Huh, well, I can come home with these on me all week if it presses a button," Stephen offers. "What style of ink do you like? Old school, modern, black and grey?"

Antony steps back, finally taking the time to pull his own t-shirt over his head, drop his jeans in a pile with it. "Modern and black and grey. I like the tribal stuff too."

"Well if...sorry," Stephen gives Antony a rueful grin, " _when_ I get my permanent collar...it's something we can talk about." He's working on his own jeans now, which he pushes off, leaving just tight jersey shorts. 

Antony's already started running the water, adjusting the taps to get the right temperature, but that, that has him stilling for a moment, the thought of Stephen marked like that, permanently, _for him_ , spiking his arousal hard. "I'd like that," he says, grinning back then nods at the tub. "Do you want the jets on?"

"You bet!" Stephen discards his shorts and steps up to the edge of the tub, perching there as he tugs off the thin latex 'scars' still stuck to him. "You're gonna wash me though, right?"

"I'm looking forward to it," Antony says with a playful leer, handing Stephen a tissue for the scars before moving a washcloth, some towels and a bottle of shower gel within easy reach. 

With the make up removed, Stephen drops the wadded up tissue in the bin and takes a piss before turning back to the bath. "That there, is a thing of beauty, Tony," he muses wistfully, because, yeah Stephen loves a soak in hot water - especially after a long day at work - and whilst his own is large enough for him to stretch out in, it's nothing on this huge two man tub. 

Antony grins. "It's nice to have someone around who appreciates it," he says, slipping down into the hot water. "It's been woefully neglected with just me here."

Stephen slides in beside him, letting out a soft noise of utter bliss. "Oh fuck me, that's good," He turns his head to his lover and with the grin that's never far from his face asks, "So, can I take it this tub's never been christened then?"

Antony's grin widens. "Other than being cleaned, it's as untouched as the day I moved in."

"That is simply criminal," Stephen shakes his head, and shuffles closer, nudging Antony's arm out of the way so he can press in close. "And something we should remedy," he adds, his voice a little throatier, though no less playful.

"You think so?" Antony murmurs, eyes crinkling at their corners, his smile soft and warm as he leans in for a kiss, and then another.

"Oh, absolutely," Stephen's words are murmured between kisses, "Don't you?"

"Definitely," Antony whispers, biting softly at Stephen's mouth, his hand slipped between them, fingers wrapping around his lover's cock.

Breath hitching at the sure touch of Antony's hand on him, Stephen lets out a low soft moan of pleasure. "Tony," he murmurs, just to savour the feel of his lover's name in his mouth. 

"You are so beautiful," Antony murmurs, smiling, working Stephen's cock with long easy strokes. "And this," he nods at the hard flesh in his hand, "this is gorgeous too."

"I'm not beautiful," Stephen laughs softly, licking over Antony's bottom lip, before nibbling on it, his hips moving in time with Antony's hand. 

"No?" Antony grins. "Not masculine enough?" he teases, licking back, a soft groan spilling from him at the scrape of Stephen's teeth.

"It's not that..." Stephen mouth works down along Antony's jaw to his ear, where he spends a little time alternating between nipping at his lovers earlobe and licking along the rim. His fingers seek purchase long Antony's back, tucking himself in closer. 

"No? Then what?" Antony asks, thumb rubbing over the crown, nail digging just slightly into the slit before he soothes the small bite of pain with more firm strokes.

Stephen's breath catches hard at that unexpected, but not unwelcome taste of pain. He drops his forehead down onto Antony's shoulder, eyes closed, breathing coming harder as his pleasure starts to tighten in the pit of his belly. 

"Uh uh." Antony chuckles, hand stilling. "This bathtub takes way too long to refill," he says. "Sit up on the back."

"What, the way we play, you're squicked by my jizz in the bath?" Stephen grumbles as he pushes up to perch his butt on the ledge against the wall, his feet still dangling in the water. 

"Well, I promised I'd get you clean," Antony says, shifting onto his knees in the bath. "And..." he adds, grinning up at his lover, his hand wrapped around Stephen's cock again, "I wanted to get my mouth on this," his lips closed over the head.

"Oh jesus...." Stephen's head drops back against the wall as Antony's mouth closes in on him. His toes curl and he has to think to drop his chin forward and open his eyes - to watch the fucking hot sight of his lover working his dick. Hesitating for a moment he raises one hand and places it on the top of Antony's head, not to guide, but to caress, to let his fingers play through his lover's short hair. 

Antony groans at the touch, his own cock hard and heavy between his thighs. He licks into the slit, teasing as deep as he can go before pulling back, the crown sucked into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing the soft skin. He repeats the movement a few times and then finally starts to sink down, his hand dropped to Stephen's thigh as he works his lover's cock deeper into his throat.

"Oh fuck...Tony...fuck..." Stephen's voice is choked. Antony has a wicked mouth on him, and he's clearly intent on driving Stephen utterly insane with pleasure. "Please...close...so close."

Antony grins around his mouthful of flesh and just nods, head bobbing as he takes Stephen in again and again, nose pressed to his groin each time he swallows him down.

It only takes a few more of those amazing moves before Stephen loses it totally, his hips push up and face contorted he yells out his orgasm, his cock throbbing as it spills cum down his lover's throat. 

A soft sound of pleasure rumbles up from deep in Antony's chest as he makes certain he gets every last drop. He takes his time in licking his lover clean before finally sitting back on his heels, a wide grin on his face. "Better than coming in the tub?" he teases, unable to resist.

Huffing out a breathless laugh Stephen nods, and licks over his lips. "Yeah, yeah, just a little," he pushes up and slides back into the water, wrapping his arms around Antony he pulls his lover in close. "You're wonderfully wicked man," he accuses softly. "I think I'm gonna keep you."

"I certainly hope so," Antony says with a soft laugh, kissing Stephen, his mouth soft and warm, his lover's taste still on his tongue.

Even as he's kissing Antony, Stephen's fingers trail down his lovers throat to the dog tags Antony wears, he wraps them up in palm. "You're a special man, Tony," he murmurs when he breaks away to nuzzle happily at the corner of Antony's mouth. 

"Thanks," Antony says a little more seriously than a moment before. "So are you. Want me to wash your back?" 

"I want you to wash me all over," Stephen returns with a smile, pulling back, and letting the tags slide from his fingers. "Own me with your hands."

The grin's back on Antony's face and he reaches for the shower gel, pouring a healthy dollop into the palm of one hand before he rubs both together and then starts at Stephen's throat, working his way slowly down, over shoulders and chest and stomach...

If Stephen were a cat, he'd be purring. Instead he makes happy noises, his own hands reaching out to pet Antony in turn. "I love how you touch me, I think anyone who could see us would know you possess me." 

"Yeah, I bet they would," Antony murmurs, stroking lower, washing Stephen's cock and balls and thighs. "I love touching you. Love you touching me." Being with Stephen like this, intimate and unguarded.

"Is that an invite?" Stephen tips his head as he slides his hand down to caress the hard length of Antony's thick cock. 

"God, yeah," Antony breathes, his own hands stilling for a moment, distracted.

"Hmm, love your cock, I love how you react to me, how I react to you..." Stephen leans in, nudging Antony's head to one side, so he can lick and then bite along the long line of his neck. He keeps stroking, adding his other hand into the mix, so not one inch of that perfect cock is left unattended. 

"Oh, god," Antony groans, tilting his head to give Stephen better access, his cock throbbing in his lover's grip. "Yeah. More."

Stephen kisses the juncture of neck and shoulder, before he sucks up the skin and bites it, worrying the flesh as he firms up the caresses on Antony's dick, his strokes rougher, much more deliberate. 

Cock jerking violently, Antony curses under his breath, teeth gritted, trying to hold out before his hips rock into Stephen's touch, once, twice and again, and he groans, hot seed spilling over Stephen's fingers, dispersing into the water around them.

"Ew, you filthy fuck," Stephen laughs softly into Antony's neck, as he lets his lovers dick slide from his hands, which he then slides around Antony's waist to pull him in closer. 

"Hey. One of us was coming in here," Antony says, laughing too. So incredibly happy that the words are right there, right on the tip of his tongue again, fuck, bitten back as quickly as they appear. It's too fucking soon. "You want me to refill the tub? Or we can grab a shower?"

Stephen wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. "Hell no, I don't want to wash it off," He dips his head to indicate the water, "Not like it isn't hugely diluted, anyway...I'm hoping to get a hell of a lot dirtier tonight before I have to shower it off," his tone drops and Stephen gives Antony a very seductive look. "I am, aren't I?"

"Yes, but I want you out of the tub for that," Antony says, the look making him wish he hadn't _just_ come. "Want your collar on."

"Yeah?" Stephen lets go of his lover and pushes away to the edge of the tub. "Just the sight of that leather around my throat makes you hard, doesn't it?" he asks his voice soft, tone a little wicked. 

Antony nods. "I like tugging on it," he says, matching Stephen's tone. "I like the way your eyes roll back in your head when I do."

"That's because my surrender to you is absolute." Stephen turns, presenting his back to Antony and he pushes up and climbs out of the bath, giving Antony a fine show of his ass before he wraps a towel around himself and pads out of the room. 

Fuck... Antony watches Stephen go, eyes locked on his boy for as long as he's in view, but the moment he's gone, he gets out as well, draining the tub and wrapping a second towel around his waist. His cock already hardening again before it's even gone soft. Making his way into the bedroom.

Stephen's dried off and when Antony appears in the bedroom doorway he's stood naked in front of the floor to ceiling windows, looking out over the city, he throws Antony a smile over his shoulder. 

"And here I was thinking that view couldn't get any better," Antony says softly, opening the top door of his dresser and pulling out Stephen's collar.

Stephen smiles, his head dropping forward a little, he turns around his back to the night time lights and sinks to his knees. "Sir," he offers the title with every ounce of respect he feels for this warm, funny, complicated man who he's committed himself to. 

"Mine," Antony responds, fastening the strip of black leather around Stephen's throat. He slides his hand around the back of Stephen's head and pulls him in, face pressed against his groin, cock swelling under the towel, already eager to be inside his boy again.

Stephen closes his eyes, nuzzles happily against Antony's body, if the collar wasn't around his neck he'd have tugged the towel away, used his mouth on his lover. Instead he slides his hands to the small of his back and awaits his order, happy enough to be right where he is for a moment. 

"Good boy," Antony praises, pleased with the way Stephen simply settles, surrendering completely. "I want you to turn around and show your sir his cunt."

"Yes Sir." Stephen takes a breath, pushes away from the warmth of Antony before he turns, dropping onto all fours and then further, forehead to the floor, eyes closed, so he can reach back and pull his ass cheeks apart, exposing his hole. _Look at me, look at your boy, your slut, your property._

Antony grabs a tube of thick lube from the bedside drawer and pulls the bench at the end of the bed a little closer, so it's right behind Stephen, seating himself on its edge. "Whose cunt is it?"

A shiver of anticipation skitters over Stephen, bringing goose bumps up over his skin. "It is your cunt Sir," Stephen returns, his voice clear and sure. 

"And these?" Antony lightly smacks the back of Stephen's balls with his hand. "Whose balls are these?"

Sucking in a breath at the smack Stephen pauses to lick over his bottom lip. "Yours, yours Sir, you own all of me," he replies, his voice throatier than just moments ago. 

"And what are you?" Antony asks, impressed with the way Stephen holds position.

"A worthless fuck pig, Sir, a cunt for you to fuck, a pig for you to abuse, a cum dump for you," Stephen's head is starting to buzz with his subspace, just this word play and the vulnerable exposed position are enough to start to push him there, into the place where he really will do anything Antony wants. 

"Nothing but my personal fuck toy," Antony agrees, slicking his fingers with lube. "Now spread those cheeks wider. Let me see my cunt, boy."

Stephen finds no reason to respond beyond doing as he's told, his fingers digging hard into the flesh on his buttocks as he tugs them as far apart as he can. 

Antony smears a dab of lube over Stephen's hole, circling his fingers around the dry tight pucker before pushing two inside him, slowly but firmly.

Stephen exhales slowly, blowing out the breath as Antony's fingers breach his body. He lets himself relax into it, knowing that he is now utterly at his Sir's mercy. 

"That's it. Open up for me, boy," Antony says, fucking his fingers in and out before he scissors them, stretching Stephen's hole open. "And don't you dare lose your grip." Not that he really thinks Stephen would.

"No Sir," Stephen murmurs, he can feel his body giving, his hole opening, ready for what ever it is that Sir wants from him. Gone is all of Stephen's worries and stresses from work, replaced instead with the white noise of his subspace. 

"You need this, don't you, pig," Antony murmurs, a third finger added, pushing in a little harder, muscle giving, stretching, his own cock throbbing roughly at the sight. "Your face pressed to the floor, your cunt fucked and filled..."

"Yes, I need this Sir, I need you," Stephen groans, his heart beats kicking up now, his skin flushing as arousal washes over him. 

Antony smiles, slowly working a fourth finger into Stephen, the fingers of his free hand brushed over the back of his boy's balls, teasing along the length of his cock.

Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Stephen rocks back a little onto Antony's hand, he shivers again at the other caresses. "So good...thank you..thank you for using this pig."

"It's my pleasure." Fingers buried deep in Stephen's hole, Antony cups his boy's balls in his hand, kneading them gently then a little more firmly, slowly but steadily increasing the pressure.

Only now do Stephen's fingers start to slip, with his skin damp with sweat now they slide over the skin of his ass, and he makes a frustrated noise as he tries desperately to maintain his position. All the while Antony plays his body so perfectly. 

"What did I say, you worthless piece of shit," Antony says softly, hand tightening suddenly on Stephen's balls. "You want my cock, you keep that cunt open for me."

The words roll over Stephen, and as ever there is that moment of rebellion before he yields to it, lets the abuse arouse and disgust him all at once. His cocks kicks up hard, precum dripping as the words, the discomfort of the grip on his nuts and the hand in his ass all combine to tip him over into utter submission. Nails scoring his skin Stephen ensures his fingers slide no further. 

"That's better, boy," Antony murmurs, easing his grip, fingers wrapping around Stephen's cock instead, stroking slowly as he tucks his thumb in against his other palm and pushes in a little harder. "You keep that ass wide open..."

"Yessir..." Stephen groans, his face screwed up, face flushed. He turns his head, presses his cheek to the floor instead, his breathing coming in harsh bursts. The pressure in his ass is building, overshadowing the pleasure being gained from having his cock stroked. "M'just pig...for Sir..."

"Yes, you are. My dirty little fuck pig," Antony breathes, fucking the cone of his hand in and out, Stephen's hole gaping with every outward movement.

The words are like a gut punch, and Stephen mewls out a noise as his own physical reaction to them. "More please...more..." he slurs and it's not Antony's hand he's begging for, but the humiliation. 

"Nothing but a nasty little fuck toy, a filthy fucking slut," Antony growls, giving Stephen's cock a good slap, his other hand moving constantly, unrelenting in his assault on Stephen's hole. "You don't even deserve to have me fuck the shit out of your dirty pig cunt."

A warning shot of cum spills from Stephen's dick, he's so far lost in his head that he's not aware of just how close he is. Antony's words, the disdain, the derision in his tone feed something dark inside Stephen and the more he gets, the more he craves. His ass opens up, all resistance gone. 

Antony groans, feeling Stephen's body surrender completely. He grabs the lube and squirts more over his hand and Stephen's hole. "Nasty little fuck pig. Look at that. Look at that dirty filthy boy cunt opening up, fucking begging to be wrecked..." he says, letting the opposite of everything he feels bleed through in his voice. Replace the pure awe he feels as he works his fingers and thumb deeper, groaning again as Stephen's muscles stretch that last bit before sucking him in, his hand fully inside his boy.

Suddenly it's as if Stephen can't breathe, his hands fall away to scrabble at the floor, his head comes up. He lets out an almost animal noise - utterly overwhelmed by the physical sensation of the pressure and the fullness. 

"See? This is how you use a real fuckpig slut," Antony says, wrapping his free arm around the front of Stephen's thighs, keeping him where he is, careful not to let his boy hurt himself. "You fuck their dirty whore cunt with your fucking fist - they don't deserve your cock..."

There's wet on Stephen's face, and it's not just sweat; tears seep from his eyes as he pushes back, ragged noises spill from his mouth as his Sir uses him, abuses him and it's perfect, it's always so fucking perfect when his Sir uses him, _pushes_ him. _More...more...break me..._

Fingers forming a fist inside Stephen's ass, Antony twists his hand, rubbing the base of his wrist over his boy's prostate. "Can you imagine if your fans saw you like this?" he murmurs, repeating the movement again and again, his thrusts short and shallow. "Saw what a fucking pig you are, what a wide open cunt you have, how much you love to have a fist rammed up your ass, playing you like the fuck toy you are..."

The tears are coming harder now, stuttering sobs, brought about by the intensity of the situation, a release of sorts. Stephen's entire body is trembling hard, his cock is softening, but that's not stopping the spurts of cum with each of Antony's fist thrusts, or the way his orgasm is tightening, right where his Sir's hand is. He's never felt anything like this in his life. 

"Watching my dirty little fuck pig _come for me_..." Antony grits out, rubbing his wrist even more firmly against that bundle of nerves, his own cock throbbing violently, aching to be inside that tight heat.

When it comes, when _he_ cums, Stephen's never experienced anything like it, the pleasure is ripped from him, his body convulsing around the fist buried inside him. He screams, hands seeking purchase on the floor as he bucks hard, sobbing as he tries to suck in a breath, for a moment he is blinded, his vision goes black and he drops to the floor. 

Fuck. Antony grits his jaw, his cock throbbing, his own orgasm dangerously close. "Good boy," he breathes, pressing his lips to Stephen's hip, giving him a moment to recover.

"Take it out," Stephen croaks, "Take it out, please...take it out," he rambles, he's starting to shiver, the sudden and huge endorphin dump sending him 'shocky' with it. "Sir...please..."

"Shh. I will but I don't want to hurt you," Antony says, slowly withdrawing his hand from Stephen's body and wiping it on the towel still half-tangled around him.

It's not the first time Antony has left Stephen in a heap on the floor. It is however the first time Stephen has been this far down, this far gone. He curls in on himself as he shivers, his eyes closed tight, his brain struggling to deal with the scope of the physical sensations he's just been subjected to. Antony's humiliating words and tone still reverberating around his mind, keeping him down, keeping him in his submissive headspace. 

"Hey," Antony says softly, using the towel to clean the lube from around Stephen's hole before he wraps his arms around his boy, pulling him up and in against his chest. "Come back. You've been such a good boy for me. So very good," he murmurs.

Those strong arms, the scent that is only his Sir, Stephen presses his face into the centre of Antony's chest and mouths softly at the skin there. His arms don't seem to be working properly, he tries and fails to wrap his arms around his Sir, settling instead for simply letting himself be held. 

"That was brilliant," Antony says, continuing to murmur soft words of affection and praise to the man in his arms. "You were _such_ a good boy for me, Stephen, taking my fist like that. So good for me. It's time to come back though."

It takes time, longer than usual, but Stephen becomes more aware of himself, and his surroundings. He blinks a few times to clear the haze, swallows and clears his throat. "Sir?" He tilts his head back, looks up to those amazing blue eyes that meet his own gaze. "I've...never..." he murmurs. _Been so totally owned like that before...I've never flown like that before..._

"Never what?" Antony murmurs back, smiling, even though he's pretty sure he has the gist of it.

"Been so...gone..." He knows he's not making a lot of sense, his words still befuddled, his brain still mush. "...down ...or...connected." 

"Good. That makes me even happier," Antony says, kissing Stephen softly.

"I can't believe..." Stephen nuzzles back into Antony's chest after the kiss, loving the closeness, the feel of his lovers, his Sir's arms around him. "You managed it...after we couldn't do it in Fiji." They'd had two attempts in Fiji, and both times Stephen hadn't managed to open up enough, his head not allowing his body to do what he asked of it. The first time he'd shrugged it off, the second time though, had stung, like a failure, it had sat uncomfortably with him. 

" _We_ managed it," Antony says softly, tightening his arms around Stephen. "And I am so proud of you. I wasn't planning to go there tonight but I could feel you open up and... it seemed right."

"It was...so much more than I thought," Stephen nuzzles up at Antony's jaw. "Intense, like my skin was too small for me...like I was literally going to fall apart into pieces when I came...your words...I just wanted more and more..." he swallows and kisses the lightly stubbled skin. "No one has ever come close to getting me so...stripped back as you."

Antony grins, tempted to tease that it sounds like he's setting the bar too high for himself, but in this, the aftermath of such an intense and intimate scene, he doesn't want to do that. Doesn't want to make light of the experience they've shared, what he achieved for Stephen. "Good," he says instead, softly, "because you're mine and if I can't have all your firsts, I want all your bests."

Smiling Stephen nips lightly at Antony's skin. "I think I prefer it that way," he murmurs. "All my bests, you are my best, you are ...the thing between us...it's so good, you're the one..."

"Yeah. I feel the same way," Antony says softly, the words a compromise between the deflecting he wants to do and the words he's still not ready to say. "We should move to the bed, if you feel steady enough."

"I need the bathroom first," Stephen pushes away and looks down at himself. "I feel like I need to shit." He rolls over onto all fours and carefully pushes up. "Can I have a drink please? Some water or juice?" 

"Yeah, of course. You want some help getting to the bathroom?" Antony asks, watching Stephen closely. 

"No, I'm good," Stephen throws Antony a quick smile over his shoulder. "I really don't need you around in there," he adds with a soft laugh at himself. Humiliation in scene is one thing, bathroom business out of it is quite another. "Be right back."

"Okay." Antony grins and heads for the powder room, confident Stephen's back up all the way. He washes his hands and then quickly checks his phone, ignoring everything but the one voicemail from Marcus, which he listens to while pouring Stephen a glass of orange juice. The message isn't hugely important though and can wait for the morning.

Back in the bedroom, he sets the juice on a coaster on Stephen's side of the bed and dumps the dirty towel in the hamper in the closet. He's still semi-hard, still aching, but having managed to fist his boy trumps that. 

Stephen spends a little time in the bathroom, long to enough to ensure he's fit for company at least, when he reappears in the bedroom, it's to find Antony already lounging. "Hey," he pads over to the bed and perches on the edge, nearest where a glass of juice is set. "This my side huh?"

Antony nods, setting his magazine down on his chest with a smile. "Is that okay? Do you have a preference?"

"Yeah, no, it's fine," Stephen nods, tugging back the bedding and climbing in. "So, we've just had an amazing scene, you must still have a hard on under here, and you're reading The Economist, so is that to distract you from your dick, or is it...Antony Porn?" Stephen asks, all wide eyed innocence over the top of his glass of juice. 

Antony laughs. "The first," he says, "but I'm good with that. I pushed you hard tonight."

"You can still fuck me," Stephen shrugs as he licks juice from his lip. "Or you use my mouth, hands, thighs..." 

Antony gives that some thought and then nods, setting his magazine aside completely. "Hand - I want your mouth on mine," he says with a smile.

"You're sure that's your choice?" Laughing Stephen sets his glass to one side and scoots down the bed a little, reaching under the covers he slides his hand over Antony's thigh, curling it around to the cup the inner flesh and then pushes up so his knuckles brush his lover's heavy balls. "Hmmm, I'm I doing this as boy or Stephen?" he glances up, letting Antony see he's happy either way. 

Hissing in a small breath as Stephen touches him, his cock jerking against his stomach, Antony smiles. "As Stephen." With his boy working early the next morning, he thinks it's better he have some time out of role before bed, especially after such an intense scene.

Stephen's grin gets decidedly naughty at that. "Hmm," he hums, dipping his head to lick over hair dusted skin, he nuzzles it a little before nipping at it, his fingers meanwhile slide up and down the thick length of his lover's swelling dick. 

Antony makes a soft sound of pleasure at the scrape of teeth, his cock pulsing against Stephen's fingers. "Mm, yeah..." he murmurs, his eyes falling closed.

"You like that hmm? Your lover, your boy...pleasuring you?" Stephen whispers as his lips map out the curves of Antony's shoulder, his fingers wrapped around that thick hot length. "See I know that you like... _this_ ," he adds, his thumb rubbing over the damp crown, "And I know you like teeth...on your throat, on your cock." 

"I like _your_ teeth," Antony murmurs, smiling, his cock twitching in Stephen's grip.

"Just mine?" Stephen's words are murmured against Antony's pulse point. He tightens his grip on his lover's cock and starts to stroke it with a firm rhythm.

"No. I like teeth in general, a little, sometimes," Antony says with a soft laugh, his breath catching, heartrate speeding up. "But I fucking _love_ your teeth."

It feels like an invitation, so Stephen decides to take it as such. He bites, right there over Antony's pulse, sucking the flesh up into his mouth and sucking up a bruise. 

Antony groans, cock kicking up against Stephen's hand. "More," he murmurs, urging his lover on.

Releasing the now darker skin, Stephen moves over an inch or so, and lays another, just as livid, totally getting off on marking his lover as his own. His hand still working Antony's cock, his fingers now wet with the precum that leaks copiously from the tip. 

"Oh, god... fuck," Antony groans, hips starting to rock, spearing his cock into the circle of Stephen's fingers. "You like marking me, don't you?"

"Yes," Stephen all but growls around the skin in his mouth. Raising his head he drops a kiss on the bruise. "You're mine, every bit as much as I'm yours," he points out, his gaze now firmly fixed on his lover's face, sweat damp and contorted with pleasure. "Mine, Tony."

"Yours, _fuck_ ," Antony gasps, laying his hand over Stephen's and moving it faster, so fucking close now. "Kiss me."

With a noise that's half a laugh, half a snarl, Stephen covers Antony's mouth with his own, kissing him hard, letting his lover _feel_ just how much fucking _want_ there is between them. He tongue fucks Antony's mouth, demanding he respond in kind. 

Tongues tangling, Antony makes a sound like he's being torn in two and comes, hard, thick wet coating both their fingers as he thrusts into their joined grip again and again. Christ.

Stephen's chuckling as he pulls away, his lips wet with his lover's kisses, "Fuck, you always cum so fucking hard," he murmurs, dipping his head to nip and kiss Antony's bottom lip. "God, Tony...I just..." he trails off, and kisses Antony again, only this time it's softer, less demanding. 

Fuck. Antony kisses Stephen back, heart thumping madly in his chest, and only part of it's that he's just come. And maybe he doesn't have any right to say it. Not this early. Not ever maybe. Because what the hell does someone like him know about love? But he can't help it. It's what he feels and he promised Stephen honesty. "I love you," he whispers. 

Stephen goes totally still, he blinks, his breath held for a heartbeat, then another, then he exhales. "I... I... Tony... fuck..." he stutters, utterly thrown by Antony's words. He'd not expected them, not considered this... _fuck!_. "I...I don't know what to say," he finally murmurs, and as thrown and confused as he is, he's not pulled back one inch. He doesn't want to. 

"Just tell me you're not going to freak out and run away from me," Antony says with a soft smile, not at all surprised by Stephen's reaction. He'd already known he was falling harder, faster, for Stephen than Stephen was for him.

Stephen kinda wishes his one hand wasn't covered in jizz, because he'd really like to be cupping the side of Antony's face right about now. "I promise you, I am not going to run away, though you might have to give me a little freak out space," Stephen says a little drily. 

Antony chuckles. "I might need some of my own later," he says, grabbing a tissue from the box beside the bed and wiping his own hand before he hands a few over to Stephen. "I swear I wasn't going to say anything and then..." he shakes his head. "You know, I never let my guard down like this. I've spent weeks being tortured and not given up one fucking piece of information and then you kiss me and I fucking had to tell you that I love you."

Stephen's listening to Antony, wiping his own hand off with the tissue when his lover so casually put it out there 'weeks being tortured...' "What? What did you just say?" he blinks. 

"You really need me to say it again?" Antony says, still busy wondering why the hell _now_ when he's managed to keep it in, well, during Fiji.

Before he can think about it Stephen smacks at Antony's shoulder. "Um, no, the bit about being fucking 'tortured' Tony..." His forehead is creased in a frown now, the buzz from the sex gone. 

Shit. "Years ago," he says, although it's a real possibility still and he has been hurt - more than a few times - but _complete_ honesty really might not be the way to go here. "When I was with the SAS. It's not anything recent."

"There's still so much I don't know about you," Stephen shakes his head, and finishes up wiping his hands before tossing the crumpled paper over the edge of the bed. "And then you drop shit like that into a conversation, and it makes me wonder how it is that we're so fucking different."

"I'm sorry." Now Antony really feels like an ass. "I guess I assumed because you took what I told you in Fiji so well that it was okay to talk about it more casually. And," he admits, really thinking about it, "I probably have this fucked up idea that because you play someone who deals with guns and violence and shit on TV, that you're more... used to all of that, when you're not, you're an actor and you're playing a role."

"I'm a normal guy, who's lived a nice, safe, blessed life, so no, I'm not used to that shit," Stephen settles back in the bed, his head propped up on hand. "It is going to be shocking to me, it is going to jar against this," he waves his free hand around the room, "And the you that I know. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't hear it, if it's who you were, who you are." 

Antony nods, watching Stephen, a part of him wondering that he hasn't sent his lover, his boy running yet, what with declarations of love and confessions of a more-than-checkered past. "Okay, but there's a lot of it I don't want to talk about, not in detail. I came out of it whole and I stay whole by locking it away and putting it behind me, so sometimes I'll be able to share and sometimes I'll have to say I can't talk about it and I'll need you to be okay with that."

"That goes both ways, there are going to be times I don't want to hear those things, I care about you Tony, I might not be able to hear those things," Stephen takes a breath and reaches up to wrap his fingers around the dog tags. "You couldn't be more different to every other man I've been involved with if you tried," he murmurs more to himself. 

"Hopefully that'll turn out to be a good thing," Antony counters softly, laying his hand over Stephen's again. "And I'll try and be more careful about what I say - and how I say it."

"It is a good thing." Blowing out a breath Stephen nods and glances up to capture Antony's gaze. "Just a head fuck," he adds with a quirk to the corner of his mouth.


End file.
